


And sorry I could not travel both

by okaystop



Series: that has made all the difference [4]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Feelings, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, The Multiverse is Real, Woke Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: It had been six months since the multiverse decided to swap one Jon Favreau for another, and for those six months, Tommy pretended that his life was fine.Or, simply: Tommy struggles to live with the wrong Jon.





	And sorry I could not travel both

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill - please don't share outside of fandom circles and help to keep it safe & secret. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Title is taken from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."
> 
> -
> 
> A HUGE thank you to nervousbakedown & bitterbeats for their most excellent beta work. I really appreciate it.

 

 

There was a moment, as Tommy stepped out of the airport and into the smoggy Los Angeles sunshine, that he thought maybe the universe had righted itself. 

Jon stood, leaning against the car in the pick-up area, arms crossed, his face breaking into a smile when he caught sight of Tommy. His heart stuttered, his breath caught. The smile was _almost_ \- it was a familiar smile, one that Tommy had seen hundreds, thousands of times in the many years since he met Jon. And yet, as he came up closer to Jon, he realized it wasn't the smile Tommy hoped to see. It wasn't _quite_ the right smile, wasn't the right Jon.

"Hey, how was the flight?" Jon asked, unperturbed. He looked at Jon, who hesitated, just a fraction of a second (but enough for Tommy to notice), before kissing Tommy in greeting. Tommy didn't linger, and neither did Jon, who took Tommy's duffel bag and swung it into the back seat. Tommy lifted his suitcase and pushed it in as well. 

"It was fine," Tommy said, brushing past him to climb into the passenger seat. He pushed the interaction out of his mind, tried not to think too hard on how it felt to see Jon, be greeted by Jon, have him with him, kiss him, and know all the while that it wasn't right.

It had been six months since the multiverse decided to swap one Jon Favreau for another, and for those six months, Tommy pretended that his life was fine. 

It was harder, he realized, coming back after a trip, a long week in Washington where he could bury himself in foreign policy and hide out in the situation room. Coming back to his home, where Jon was waiting, and not hope that maybe sometime during the plane ride, they swapped back. 

Jon got in and pulled away from the curb, a quick glance, a smile that brightened his eyes, over at Tommy. "Everything okay in D.C.?" he asked. "How's Lovett?"

Tommy fiddled with his phone in his lap. "Everything's good." He turned his phone face down and folded his hands against his thighs, to keep from reaching out and touching Jon. "Lovett's Lovett. He says hi." 

"Good," Jon said. He reached out a hand and squeezed Tommy's knee, then left it there. 

Tommy told himself not to tense up. He stared at Jon's hand, then covered it with his own, lacing their fingers together. He was better at it, so was Jon, but it still wasn't the same. It was possible it would never be the same again, but Tommy refused to let himself think that. At least not very often. "Sorry, I'm a little tired," Tommy said a moment later, forcing a yawn out in punctuation.

Jon laughed fondly. "Well, we'll probably get stuck in traffic, so I'll forgive you if you take a nap."

"Thanks," Tommy murmured. He turned his cheek against the seat and watched the freeway and the traffic speed by out the window. Jon's hand was warm in his, his knuckles dry, long fingers pressed against Tommy's. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe that this was his Jon.

Tommy had stopped cataloguing all of the differences and missteps, but that was because they had become a daily infiltration of his life. It was no longer possible to separate them, to downplay them. He had thought, back after it first happened, that eventually things would get easier, that he would be able to look at Jon and not miss him. He was right there in front of Tommy, after all. But there was this ache that wasn't going away, an ache deep in his stomach that crept up to have a vice grip on his heart. 

It wasn't Jon's fault. He was good. He was there. And he loved Tommy. Maybe not in all of the ways Tommy was used to or wanted, but he did love him. He was eager, open, and willing to love Tommy. It was the beginning stages of their relationship all over again. 

But Tommy didn't want to start over. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to live and love the man he married, _now_ , not in another year or four years or whatever it took to catch up to what he had before.

He must have dozed off just enough that Jon stopping the car in the driveway jerked him awake. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened, blinking wearily as Jon got out and gathered both of Tommy's bags into his arms. He slid out and stretched. "Thanks," he said, and Jon smiled at him widely as they walked into the house.

Tommy was greeted by both Leo and Lucca, who bounded over to him, tails wagging. Lucca flopped onto her back and Tommy bent down to scratch her belly. 

"I was going to order in," Jon said. "How does Thai sound?"

Tommy wasn't very hungry but he figured he would be in a few hours. "Sure," he said. "Just get my usual." When Jon didn't say anything for a moment, Tommy turned to look at him, hand still occupied by the dogs. He frowned lightly, catching the questioning look on Jon's face. "I'm sure that whatever you think is my usual, it probably is."

Jon looked pained, just for a moment, before he nodded and focused down at his phone.

Tommy gave his attention to the dogs for a moment longer before he carried his bags into the bedroom and set to work at unpacking. He hated leaving his suitcase for later, and even as tired and worn out as he was, the sooner he got to it, the sooner it would be done. He shoved his dirty clothes sack into the hamper and got through everything else before Jon appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, uh - Marian called," he was saying. "From the - agency?"

The back of his neck tensed, and Tommy swore under his breath. He had told her not to call Jon, explicitly told her, though of course he couldn't very well have explained to her why. He looked down at the t-shirt in his hands, refolded it on the end of the bed. "What did she need?"

"She said we - she said there's a - that we've moved up to the top of a list," Jon said carefully. "Tommy, what's this about?"

He breathed in deeply and then turned, perching at the edge of the bed. "It's an adoption agency," he said. "We were on a waiting list. I - I told her to hit pause on the whole thing. She wasn't supposed to call you. I'll call her tomorrow and clear things up." A dull ache had started behind Tommy's ear, and he shook his head. 

"An adoption list," Jon echoed. He leaned against the doorframe, one hand rubbing the inside of his elbow. "You don't - have to put that on hold. If it's something you want -"

Before he could keep the words inside - "I don't want to adopt a baby right now, Jon," he snapped. The 'with you' was unspoken but hung there between the two of them nonetheless.

Hurt flashed across Jon's face, and Tommy winced. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, trying to walk it back. It wasn't fair - it wasn't fair to Jon at all, that Tommy wasn't able to deal with this. It wasn't Jon's fault. "I need - it's been a long fucking week, Jon. I need to get some sleep."

Jon opened his mouth to say something then closed it again. He looked down at the floor and nodded. "I'll put your take-out in the fridge," he said. "I'm sure you'll be hungry later." Jon pushed away from the wall and disappeared down the hall.

Tommy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, then flopped back onto the bed. He was exhausted, but all he could do was stare at the ceiling.

 

 

Tommy misplaced Jon halfway through the night. He thought he probably ought to go find him, but he was on his fourth drink and didn't really feel like it. Jon could take care of himself, multiverse be damned. He was a grown man who didn't need to be attached to Tommy's side all the time.

His drink was half empty, and Tommy frowned down into the glass. Halloween was a favorite holiday of his, and he and Jon planned their costumes practically a year in advance, but coming to this party was a mistake, Tommy thought. He'd much rather have stayed home and passed out candy to the trick-or-treaters in their neighborhood. Maybe with a movie on, or the Bruins game. Not - at a Halloween party hanging out like a wallflower to avoid the mass of bodies while Jon was - somewhere else.

"Well, hello there," came a greeting from his right. Tommy turned, a polite yet tipsy smile on his face, to find a cute guy sidling up next to him. "Please tell me you're here alone so I can flirt without reservation."

Tommy blushed. "Sorry," he said automatically. "My -" A stumble, only because of the drinks and pounding bass and the unexpected attention from someone new. "My husband's around here somewhere."

The man sighed. "Such a pity. Your ass looks delectable in those jeans." The blush grew, and Tommy tried to hide it behind his drink, but he knew he was unsuccessful when the guy's smile just grew and he leaned in a bit, casually. "Honestly, we've gotten to the point now where all the hot ones are either straight or married. Ah, well."

He stuck his hand out for an introduction anyway, but before names could be exchanged, Jon burst in between them. "Louis!" He actually threw his arms around the man and Tommy tried to pull him away once he see the expression on the man's face. Jon was the shiny, happy kind of drunk, well into the affectionate, 'personal space, what's that?' portion of the night. "I didn't know you were going to be here. It's so good to see you!"

The man, who probably wasn't Louis at all, looked a mix of pleased and stricken at having Jon Favreau's long arm hanging around his shoulder. "Jon -" Tommy started, sternly.

"I'm sorry but - do we know each other?"

Jon blinked a few times and Tommy saw the moment his sober side realized his mistake. He moved away, quickly, leaning into Tommy now for support and tucking his nose against Tommy's shoulder. His face was warm.

"Sorry," Tommy said quickly. "I'm Tommy," he added, as smoothly as possible to try and salvage the situation. He held out his hand. "This is my husband, Jon."

"I'm Louis," the man said, still looking suspiciously at Jon. "Have we met before?"

Jon's fingers dug into Tommy's hip and he shrugged. "At the gym," he said, cheeks pulling into a sheepish smile. He sounded more sober now than he did a minute ago. "I - think we had that one cycling class together."

"Oh, right," Louis said, an easy smile slipping across his face. Tommy couldn't tell if this was true or if Louis was just playing along. Maybe it didn't matter. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you in - all this."

'All this' was the 1950s _Grease_ -inspired costume that Jon and Tommy had planned months before the multiverse switch, wherein Tommy was the T-Bird greaser and Jon the well-dressed nerd. Jon's smile widened a little. "Do you wanna dance? Tommy's being a stick in the mud."

"Not really costume compliant then," Louis teased. His gaze lingered on Tommy more than on Jon, and Tommy felt his heartbeat speed up. He was never very good in situations like this. 

"I have a headache," he said dryly. He squeezed Jon's arm. "Go. Dance. Have fun." He all but pushed Jon and Louis away from him before pushing his own way through to the bar for another drink.

Later, in the car on the way home a few hours before dawn, Tommy was silent, cotton-mouthed, and exhausted. Jon was usually handsy in a Lyft after a party, after drinking, but that night he just leaned into Tommy and closed his eyes. Belatedly, he remembered that this Jon might be affectionate, but he wouldn't be handsy. 

Tommy tensed and forced himself to relax as he moved his arm around Jon's shoulders, fingertips pressing into his upper arm. "So," he said carefully. "How do you really know that guy?"

Jon barely shifted. "Hmn? What guy?"

"Louis. Who you were dancing with half the night."

Jon was quiet for a moment, then lifted his head and moved his whole body away from Tommy until they weren't touching at all anymore. For one horrible moment, Tommy's mind went to worse-case-scenario, that Louis was some guy Jon was fucking, before it clocked in that his Jon would _never_ and _this_ Jon wasn't gay or really even bi or -

"He co-hosts one of our podcasts," Jon said, rubbing his eyes. "About the intersection of politics and pop culture. Sorry, I thought I was getting better about remembering that I'm here, not there. At least - I think he bought the gym story. Or didn't seem to care."

"So that part isn't true?"

Jon shook his head, leaned his cheek against the car window. "Sorry."

Tommy folded his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. "I wish you wouldn't keep apologizing for it."

"I just hate that I keep making these mistakes." 

Tommy, hesitant, reached out and touched Jon's arm. "I know you do. I - look, Jon, I thought I'd be able to do this. With you. But -" The words caught in his throat and all he wanted was to not say them, but he _had_ to. "I don't - I can't. It's not you." But it was him, it was Jon, and this was an awful excuse and awful thing to have to say. "It's not your _fault_ ," he tried again. "You lived a different life than I did. And that's just a fact. I just can't keep living with you like this." He didn't want to look at Jon, didn't want to be having this conversation in the backseat of a Lyft in the middle of the night, but it was happening all the same.

Beside him, Jon cleared his throat. "Okay."

The car pulled up to the curb in front of their house, and Jon got out quickly, stumbling a little. 

"Uh, sorry for the after midnight drama," Tommy said to the driver as he opened the door, face red and feeling sick to his stomach.

"Sorry about your break-up, man," came the reply.

Tommy awkwardly promised a big tip and great review before he followed Jon inside.

He found him leaning over the sink, water running, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. Tommy plucked a glass out of the drying rack and held it out for him. He touched his back, between his shoulder blades, and Jon flinched away. "Jon."

He rinsed and spit, turned off the water. "I was trying, Tom," he said. "I know I can't be who you want, but I thought - I hoped - I could come close. That I could be enough." He sagged against the counter, looking smaller and more tired than Tommy would ever remember seeing him before, even during their White House days together. "I'm sorry I'm not him."

Tommy couldn't find the words or sort through his thoughts. His head hurt, and so did his chest, a pressure that closed in around him all the way down to his knees. Like he might not be able to stand up for much longer. He looked at Jon, the hurt and pain in his eyes suddenly too much, too real.

"I don't want to bother them tonight, but I'll go to my parents' tomorrow."

Tommy managed to nod. 

Neither of them moved, then Jon lurched forward, his arms winding around Tommy. He pushed his nose into Tommy's neck again, breath hot and wet. "I hope he comes back to you," Jon whispered, and Tommy realized, horrified, that the wetness he felt on his skin as Jon pulled back and hurried away, banging his elbow off the wall on his way down the hallway to the guest room, was Jon's tears.

Tommy, for some reason, couldn't cry.

 

 

"Wow, Vietor, you look like shit."

Tommy looked at Lovett, eyes narrow, and said nothing. Instead, he lifted his messenger bag's strap over his head and set it on the couch in Lovett's office before he sat down himself.

"I seriously can't believe you left him."

Tommy wanted Lovett to stop talking. "I didn't - I'm just here for a few weeks." He pushed his palms over his face and leaned forward, crouching in against himself. "You don't get it," he continued. "He's not - it's not _Jon_. I can't pretend like he's the same person and it's - walking away broke my fucking heart, okay, Lovett? But staying would have been even worse."

Lovett sighed and flopped onto the couch beside him. "What can I do?"

Tommy took advantage and sagged half against Lovett. "I don't know. This is good. Ben said he needs some help with this whole Venezuela situation so I can stay around D.C. for a few weeks. Clear my head or something." Anything, he thought, anything to keep from thinking about Jon. He twisted at his wedding ring. "I'm still not going to ask for a divorce. Not - yet. I still hope -"

Lovett nudged their shoulders. "He'll come back. You gotta believe that."

"I want to. It's just." Tommy choked on the words.

"I know," Lovett said quietly.

The problem was that Lovett didn't know, not really, or at least not in the same way. Tommy knew Jon and Lovett were best friends, and even during this inconceivable situation, they talked or texted cross-country every day. Lovett knew, maybe not physically or intimately that Jon wasn't the same.

But he still didn't _know_.

"I asked around too, you know," Lovett said as he stood up, brushing off his slacks. "And then fell down a dark web rabbit hole. There's nothing there about this, by the way, and if it's not there, it's not anywhere." That didn't make Tommy feel any better, especially because he'd done the same before he couldn't handle it anymore. "I just want to know why."

Tommy's attention snapped up to Lovett, who had returned to slouch forward behind his desk. "What?"

Lovett shuffled the papers around and swiveled to look at Tommy. He shrugged. "I just mean, like, whenever there's an alternate reality or time travel or something and it's done in a movie or book or on TV or whatever, there's always a reason. I want to know the reason this whole thing happened."

Tommy started to shake his head, but Lovett was into it and kept talking.

"Like, one person goes into another reality to learn something important that'll save the world once he goes back to his own. You know, maybe there's some smoking gun Jon needs to figure out in order to get the orange trash-face out of office in that other timeline. Or maybe he has to figure out how to keep us from destroying Earth or maybe he has some important information for us that he just hasn't told us about yet. I don't know."

Tommy kind of stopped listening to Lovett's rambles. Sometimes, when he got going like this, Tommy just turned himself off, his brain drifting away. This time was no exception. He tried to slot the things that he couldn't get out of his head into their appropriate places. The feeling of Jon's tears on his neck and the look on his face before he walked away. The recent moments when Jon looked at Tommy so closely to how he should be looking at him. The last time, before the multiverse switch that is, that they kissed, touched, that Tommy had Jon inside him, when they were wrapped around each other.

Lovett stopped abruptly. "Well, shit. That's a real fucked up way to do that if that's the multiverses' goal."

"Wait, what?"

"The whole forcing two people to confront their feelings for each other." Lovett's expression was that of pain, or nausea, or both. Tommy was pretty sure his was the same way. "Nothing, never mind. This isn't a movie. Shit, Tommy - I wish there was something I could do."

Tommy clawed at his face. "I know. It's fine. I just - need to - I need to work on something, Lovett," he said. "Anything. Just put me to work, please." Lovett nodded and told Tommy to pull up a chair.

 

 

Besides a handful of texts and one phone call about dog sitting logistics, Tommy hadn't spoken to Jon since Halloween night, when he admitted he couldn't do this anymore. And he hadn't seen him since then at all.

It was the longest they'd ever went without seeing each other in the entirety of their friendship, relationship, marriage. It felt more than ever like some part of Tommy was missing, hopeless like he would never get it back.

He got home to an empty house, rolled his suitcase into the middle of the living room and left it there. He wandered out onto the back patio, leaned against the railing as he stared out at the hazy horizon and watched the sun settle low in the sky. The warm Santa Ana winds swept against him from his left. 

Behind him, he heard the door open, followed by the clatter of dog claws on the hardwoods.

Tommy bent down, focused on the dogs, even though it was hard to keep his attention away from Jon. So many years circling one another's orbits and now Tommy had broken stride, broken away. Lucca peppered his face with kisses, and Leo flopped over for a belly rub.

"I thought you'd want to see them," Jon said from across the room.

Tommy looked up to find him hovering near the doorward, awkwardly holding both leashes in hand. He looked like he hadn't been eating. He was unshaved, his beard more salt than pepper, especially at his chin, his lower jaw. 

"Thanks," he said.

Jon looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just kept looking at Tommy as he paid attention to the dogs. Finally, he stood up, hands in his pockets. 

Jon looked tired. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I miss you," he said, voice raspy. "I know you asked -" he rushed on. "I know you need space. I know we're not - that I'm not who you need and it's not fair for me to ask you to ignore that, not fair for me to still want you around, but I do. You've been part of my life for fifteen years, for - I can't just - I miss you, Tom."

"I miss you too," he admitted, and he realized it wasn't just that he missed his husband, but that he also missed this Jon. "It's just hard for me to be with you and not think about him."

Jon nodded, sniffled a little and looked away. "I'll come back and - well, I can collect Leo later, I mean, if you want me to."

Tommy was torn. He wanted Jon to stay and he wanted him to go. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "I was going to order in."

Jon looked surprised. "I actually have plans. With Molly and Andy."

Right, of course. Tommy forced a pleasant smile onto his face. "Then I'll see you later?"

Jon nodded. He listed toward the door a little, hesitated. "I, uh -" Tommy waited, curled his fingers in his pocket against his thigh. "I found an apartment, a few blocks from here. I haven't signed a lease yet. I wanted to talk to you first. But if it'll be easier -"

Tommy's eyes stung. "I don't want - you don't have to move out. We can live here, co-exist."

Jon's head cocked to the side, and he thumbed at his lower lip. "I don't think we can," he said. "I don't think _you_ can."

Tommy's chest tightened. Even here, even this Jon, knew him well enough to say something like that, to know that. That was the worst part of this, the part that was going to tear him apart from the inside out. Tommy managed a nod and watched Jon walk out, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Suddenly, he wasn't hungry at all, but he was very tired.

 

 

In fact, Jon didn't have plans with his brother and Molly. 

There was a part of him that hoped that Tommy might have changed his mind. That when Jon walked in with the dogs, he'd look over at Tommy and he'd smile and open his arms and everything would be fixed between them. Maybe Tommy would have realized that Jon could be what he needed. Maybe Jon could actually be what Tommy needed. That he could live here, in this universe, as Tommy's husband, loving him, loving each other. 

Wouldn't it have been nice for everything to be fixed? Almost as nice as it would be if he just went back to his own universe and could pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Except, he would never be able to do that. He wouldn't _want_ to do that. 

He walked quickly down the street until he reached the parklet on the corner, wound his way until he found the bench he sometimes sat at for a while when walking the dogs. He leaned forward, turned his phone over in his hands a few times, before unlocking it and calling Lovett.

Lovett answered on the fourth ring, sounding sleepy. "Hey."

"Hi, sorry. Did I wake you?"

There was rustling from the other end of the line, a muted curse. "No, I mean - yes but I shouldn't - I didn't mean to fall asleep. What's up? Did Tommy get home all right?"

Jon pressed the pad of his thumb against the side of the bench and nodded before answering out loud. "Yeah, he got in fine. I dropped the dogs off. I -" He didn't think Tommy knew that he talked to Lovett almost every day. "I didn't tell him."

Lovett sighed. "Jon."

His chest tightened. "He wants his husband," he said quietly. "And I want - _my_ Tommy. That's what I - I mean, I knew that. I've spent the last six months seeing everything that's different between him and - and the Tommy in my universe." All the words rushed out of him so quickly, like if he didn't say it all in one breath, he'd never say any of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Jon struggling with the words he wanted to say. Then, Lovett spoke again. "Shit, Jon, this is the fucking worst. If I could just snap my fingers and get everything back to normal, I would. You know that, right?"

Jon nodded a few times then, remembering that he was on the phone, choked out a hoarse "yes." His chest tightened, and the back of his throat hurt. The corners of his eyes were wet and he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep from crying. He tried to suck it all back in but it had the opposite effect. A sharp breath, gasping for air, and a sob that he couldn't reign in. "Sorry," he managed to say. "Sorry, I know. Lovett -"

"Jon," Lovett said sharply. "Are you - what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"'M fine," he said miserably, lying easily if not at all convincingly. His grip on his phone tightened and he maneuvered to lie on his back on the bench, pressing a palm over his eyes.

"Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Lovett," he said, his breathing loud and his heartbeat louder. "Just - in a park. I'm not - I'm fine. I just need a few. I'll - call you later." He hung up quickly, held his phone against his stomach, bent his knees so his feet weren't hanging off the end of the bench. 

He just needed a minute. A few minutes to clear his mind and stop thinking about everything that he couldn't get out of his mind. He was stuck here, forced to exist with his best friend who wanted something he couldn't give him. He was stuck knowing that it was a possibility, knowing that he wanted it too. He knew that this universe wasn't going to give him Tommy, but he wanted him anyway. He wanted to know what it was like, not here where their lives changed in Chicago first and then the 2016 election went their way. No, he wanted to know what it was like with Tommy at home, in his own universe, watching the clusterfuck of a Trump Presidency, leading the Resistance with Crooked, going to work every day with Tommy and Leo and Lucca and coming home together, too. 

Jon felt a little like he was suffocating, the way he felt as he sat on an airplane waiting for take-off, times ten, twenty. He curled his fist against his forehead and counted backwards from one hundred, willing his body to stop feeling torn apart. 

He wasn't yet to forty when he heard Tommy say his name. Jon let out a breath, shaking, and opened his eyes. "Tom?"

"Lovett called. He was worried about you. I'm worried -"

He tried to flap his hand at Tommy to say he was fine, but his eyes were leaking and he didn't want to move. He turned his head enough so he could look wetly at the tops of the trees hanging over him. Beside him, Tommy sat down and then nudged Jon to lift up, set his head down against his thighs. His fingers slid gently through Jon's hair. He didn't say anything.

Jon relaxed under Tommy's touch. He closed his eyes and loosened his grip on his phone. His breathing evened out. "I love you," he whispered, so quietly that he wasn't sure Tommy would even be able to hear him.

But Tommy's fingers tightened momentarily in his hair, then went back to stroking lightly. "I know, Jon," he said. He bent down and pressed his mouth against Jon's temple. "I love you, too."

 

 

***

Tommy woke up, warm and half-hard, to the feeling of Jon's mouth, open, wet, against the crease of his hip. He moaned, squirming, palm finding the side of Jon's head. It had been a while, more than a while. He had never pressed Jon for physical intimacy, had resigned himself to wait it out, if they ever got to that point again. He sighed, burrowing into the feeling, hanging on to what he assumed were the last moments of a lucid dream starting to blur around the edges.

Then, Jon's hand slipped between his thighs, right up inside his boxers, fingertip brushing against him, light, petting, just the way Jon knew he liked it.

His eyes snapped open with a gasp. "Jon!"

"Morning, babe. Relax." Jon's mouth moved against his hip, up across his abs.

"No," Tommy managed to get out. "Wait." He cupped the side of Jon's head, thumb against his temple, and nudged him to look up, turned his face slightly away. Tommy's fingers pressed into Jon's short hair, absent of the salt-and-pepper that he'd started to get used to. His hand started to shake. "Jon?" It came out like a sob, and that caught Jon's attention.

He scrambled up over Tommy, straddling to look at him, really, really look at him. When their eyes met, Tommy knew that Jon was back. _His Jon_. He saw the moment Jon realized too, his dark eyes wide, lips parted. Tommy's hand found the scar at Jon's side as his hips pushed up against his husband's, easily, eagerly. "Oh god," he breathed out.

"Fuck," Jon held himself up over Tommy, forearms and shoulders tight. But he lowered his forehead to Tommy's chest, over his heart. "Fuck, fuck - _Tom_." He was shaking, and Tommy felt his skin get damp. Jon lifted his head, gripped Tommy's wrist, the back of his hand, holding his hand tightly against his face. He sat up and turned his face into Tommy's palm, mouthing his wedding ring.

Tommy cupped his jaw and tugged him up so they were face to face. "It's you," he said, shaking his head. "You're - " 

Jon cut him off with a kiss. It felt like he was home. His fingers slid against Jon's wet cheeks, their mouths moving, dirty and hot, against each other's. This - this was _everything_. He murmured Jon's name over and over again, incapable of not touching him. Every place their bodies touched - his fingers in Jon's hair, Jon's hand gripping his upper arm so tightly that he was going to leave marks, his hips rolling under Jon's, Jon's thigh pushing up between his knees - felt like he could burst into flames at any moment. His chest was tight, stomach clenched, and Tommy had to tear his mouth away to breathe.

His hand held onto the back of Jon's neck, their foreheads pressed together, both panting. "I was so scared -" Jon choked out. His lips moved over Tommy's forehead, down his cheek bone, along his chin to catch the sticky trail of tears leaking from Tommy's eyes. "I didn't know how -"

"I know," Tommy said hoarsely. He could barely breathe, could barely think. He shifted under Jon, felt him hard against the inside of his thigh, and groaned. He was hard too, trapped between their bodies. He was so hard, wanted Jon so much, it hurt. "Jon, please."

"I'm here," Jon said, mouth finding Tommy's again. "I'm here, I'm - anything you want. I'm here. I'm never leaving again." 

He tasted like salt and promise. Tommy kissed him back desperately. "I love you," he said, the words almost lost into Jon's mouth, but he knew Jon heard them when he said them right back, gasping. Tommy trembled, tangling himself up with Jon to be as close to him as possible. He wanted to be closer. He needed to be closer. He needed everything.

 

 

It was late morning when Tommy woke again, stretched himself out along an empty bed. He opened his eyes and blinked, put a hand against his sticky forehead. "Jon?" he asked, voice hoarse with both sleep and sex. He came very near to panicking, that he had actually dreamt the entire thing, when Jon walked out of the bathroom, naked, smiling at him. He let out a gasp of relief. " _Jon_."

He bent over and kissed Tommy, slowly, a hand on his thigh over the sheet. "God, you look good," he said, one knee on the bed, his mouth moving against Tommy's.

Tommy touched his shoulder, up the side of his neck, opened his mouth under Jon's and just let himself be kissed. He could go on kissing Jon for hours, days, weeks, even if he needed to. He wanted to press himself close and never let go. He shifted, nudged Jon until they were side by side on the bed. "Hi," he said.

Jon smiled against Tommy's smile. "Hey."

He lifted his hand to run his fingers through Jon's hair. "I missed you," he said quietly, his heart fluttering. His leg moved between Jon's thighs, pulling him closer.

An odd expression passed across Jon's face, gone so quickly that Tommy thought he might have imagined it. "He was here, right?" he asked. He opened his palm against Tommy's chest, thumbed his collarbone. "The me from the other universe? It wasn't like I just disappeared entirely. We switched places?"

Tommy leaned his forehead against Jon's cheek and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "It just -"

"We weren't together there," Jon supplied. 

Tommy nodded. "He was surprised," he said. "More than I'd like to think about, that it was even something that was possible. We tried, for a little while." For six months, really. "But it wasn't - it wasn't the same and I couldn't do it."

Jon inched back, looked at Tommy with a furrowed brow, concern awash on his face. "What do you mean, you couldn't do it?"

Tommy pressed his cheek against the warm pillow. He let his fingers draw a pattern at Jon's hip, over the tattoo he had a matching one of, that they'd gotten together on their first wedding anniversary. He shrugged. "I mean - it was like starting our relationship all over again, and I couldn't relive all of that. I was stuck in my head and couldn't - he wasn't _you_."

"But he was open to it?" Jon lifted a hand and slid his fingertips against the side of Tommy's head, down along his neck, thumb padding at his hairline. 

He nodded slowly. "Sure, he was. It was awkward and nothing about it was easy, not like it is with you, with us."

Jon pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Right, because it was still new for him, still early. Like it was for us when we first got together."

Tommy couldn't stop looking at Jon, touching him, but he managed to nod again. "Right." He thought about the way Jon woke him up earlier that morning, his mouth on his hip, his hand slipping inside of his boxers. Without meaning to, he tensed up. "It wasn't like that for you," he said suddenly. His fingers curled against Jon's waist. "In the other reality. It was different."

A blush swept across Jon's face. "Well, not really." He shifted slightly, as though he needed to move away, but Tommy didn't let him, couldn't let him break contact. "It was easy. It was as easy with him as it was with you. The other Tommy, I mean. Once he realized he _could_ , we did. It was like you said, it was starting all over again, all those firsts again."

Tommy didn't know why his stomach sank, why hearing Jon talk about this made him feel light-headed and betrayed. Now he needed to break the contact, and he rolled over onto his back, letting Jon's hand slip away from where it pressed against his shoulder. 

"Tom?"

He held up a hand. "I just need a minute," he said. 

Jon nodded and stretched away, found his boxers on the floor and tugged them on. He sat at the side of the bed, his back to Tommy.

He'd never really given what was happening in the other universe much thought. He knew the differences, the state of the world, through conversations with the other Jon. He knew that they weren't together, that it hadn't ever even occurred to Jon. But he never thought about what that meant to have a Jon there for that Tommy, a Jon who was open to it. He figured that if something were to happen, it would be after the multiverse corrected itself, not while they were switched. He had given that Jon permission, had shown him what it might be like. And then he had fucked it up royally.

Tommy reached a hand out to spread his palm against Jon's back. "I hope I didn't fuck anything up here, on this end," he admitted quietly.

Jon turned enough to glance at Tommy. "What do you mean?"

He sat up, scooted over to Jon and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his chest up against Jon's warm, bare back. Jon caught his hand in his and held it tightly to his stomach. He turned and kissed Tommy's shoulder when Tommy pressed his jaw against the back of Jon's neck. "I don't know if I let him feel for me the way you feel for me. I don't think he ever got there. I - didn't let us fall into normal the way I - I tried. I just couldn't."

Jon swallowed, leaned back into Tommy's embrace. "He wasn't me, I know. And the other Tommy wasn't you. But it was - good, really. I want to believe that when he woke up there with him this morning, that they'll work it out."

"I hope so," Tommy whispered, unable to shake the doubts from his mind. It sounded like his Jon embraced the other reality, let himself go and live in it. And here, Tommy had stifled that Jon. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose between Jon's shoulder blades.

His mind was racing with the worry that he'd messed things up, and he used the steady beat of Jon's heart, which he could feel in his chest and in the way his hand was pressed there, to relax. There was more to focus on now. More to be thankful for. Slowly, Tommy was able to put the anxieties out of his mind and allow Jon to center him.

Jon knew, too, that it was what Tommy needed. After a long, quiet moment between them, he leaned down and kissed Tommy's wrist. "I missed _you_ ," he whispered.

"I missed you too," Tommy echoed. He breathed in deeply and held Jon close, refusing to let go. He knew Jon felt the same way.


End file.
